Elune Everwatching
by Seagale Twinkletree
Summary: A High Elf's life in Stormwind and beyond.
1. Chapter One

Hello, this is my first story! It was first posted on the WoW EU roleplaying forum, but I decided to move it here. Please post your comments as I'd like to improve the story and my writing skills.

All characters and content are made up by me, with the exception of the original Warcraft content and the part about Meren's crush, which was written by Natan from the mentioned forum and slightly edited by me.

All rights to the Warcraft universe are, of course, property of Blizzard Entertainment.

**Elune Everwatching _by Seagale_**

_Chapter One_

Varassil slowly opened her eyes. She had been sitting there for two hours now, meditating. Magic was flowing in her veins, and her eyes longed to see light again. She rose from the bed only to discover her dark room, with nothing but a small torch visible on the opposite wall. She was hungry. "Food should be prepared, not conjured." she thought, and walked to the door. She picked up the key and opened the door. As she stepped into the light of the hall, her bright yellow hair and deep blue eyes became visible. Alas, there was no living being there to see her. Pictures of old mages replied her with a solemn face, much like the one she had. "Hurry to the inn and return to the tower." she commanded herself, and so she walked down the spiral pathway of the Mage Tower and made her way to the Trade District among shorter humans.

A preacher stood in the center of the district. A large crowd surrounded him, paying heed to his words.  
"Hear me, Stormwind! Your demons will not liberate you, nor shall thy magic unshackle your sinful existence. Is it your wish to see the Legion level the city once more? To see our courageous fire extinguished again? Examples of the corruption are abundant throughout out lands. Look at the Naga and the Highborne, and you will be looking at your grim future. Darkness comes to consume us all! Pledge your loyalty to the Holy Light, and you shall spring free from the horrors the future holds! We shall gather tonight for a prayer to the blessed Light in the Cathedral of Stormwind! Let not darkness engulf you, embrace the Light and be redeemed!"  
The words burned Varassil's ears like flaming metal scorching her flesh. She did her best to blend into the crowd, remain unnoticed. She was taller than most of them, but the priest didn't catch her in his eye. He would surely use her as a living example, she thought, and made haste to the inn.

Old Town was not the most inviting place in the city, lined with pickpockets and thugs constantly watching her. She had only taken enough silver pieces to buy food and drink, so she wasn't worried.  
The tavern was bustling with activity. The air was thick, the smell was bad, and drunk Dwarves were spilling their ale everywhere. Unfortunately for her, there were Night Elves present as well. She looked down and entered, hoping to pass undetected.

Even among Dwarven curses and Darnassian prayers a High Elf cannot hide. "Hey magic addict!" shouted the overjoyed Night Elf in the corner. Laughter ensued and the pack of Night Elves commenced their drinking. "Hey paleskin, my chicken is cold!", "Why aren't you meditating?" and "Go channel yourself some dignity!" were among their jokes. "I wish I didn't speak Darnassian..." She said softly, almost crying.  
Varassil finally made it to the bartender. She could not bring herself to look at his face. She untied her coin sack, put it on the bar and said "Some Morning Dew and wine please." while moving back and forth nervously. "Calm down, lass." he tried to calm her, but to no avail: The Elves' jokes were clearly getting to her. He handed her the dew and the wine and she went on to find a lonely spot in the shades to dine in.

When she was done, she hurried back to the solitude the tower offered with tears running down her pale face. She wasn't hungry anymore, but her soul was at unrest.  
She entered her room and lit the small torch. A bucket of water was waiting, which she used to wash her face. Her clothes removed, she crawled into bed. "Only 1886 years left" she whined, and with a sigh fell asleep.

In her sleep, she dreamt of what once was. Varassil dreamt of the safety of her old home in the spires of Silvermoon, where she sat and watched the realm of Quel'thalas beneath her, tranquil with lights of the magical city reflected off puddles of rain scattered across the horizon. There she sat, young, naive and completely ignorant of the horrors yet to follow.  
Her mother was standing behind her, resting her hands on Varassil's shoulders. Looking out of the window she said: "What a beautiful night, Var! Look! The moon is in that puddle!". Varassil stared at the moon's reflection and smiled to her mother.   
Then her mother began singing softly, nearly whispering:

_In the endless sea of night swim countless twinkles.  
In the boundless void of twilight tread numberless stars.  
Clouds move as the wind ripples.  
Elune will heal you of your scars._

Varassil shut her eyes as she felt the singing enfold her. She began floating and eventually landed back in her bed in Stormwind. She slept until dawn undisturbed.

----------------------------

Noon came, and Stormwind was baking in hot midday sun as it went about it's daily business.  
Yet cloudless sky escaped Varassil's eyes when she finally opened them, as there were no windows in her room.  
She put on her traditional robe, which was given to her by her mother. Then she proceeded to wash her face and put out the torch.  
In the hallway again, she saw paintings of great mages. Their faces were solemn, but Varassil was too busy reciting her mother's song to notice.  
This time she went the other way, towards the rooms in which they held lessons to teach young mages the art of fire, frost and the arcane.

She heard Othrallas Firestaff, an old and seasoned mage, rehearse his old speech in front of new students:  
"It is time for your portal lesson, younglings! We shall skip the boring introductions and actually open some portals. We will not, however, pass through them. We have much to learn and cannot spare time to take the Tram back here. Oh, good morning, Varassil!"  
Varassil entered the room and took a seat near the door to watch, but Othrallas spotted her. She was a gifted mage since birth, and didn't need any lessons. She often had a trick to teach the professor as well.  
"Come here, don't be shy! Meet Varassil, everyone. She is one of the few High Elves still left in our world."  
Varassil shook her head and looked down.  
"She's shy, kids, don't worry." he said to the bunch of 20 year old humans sitting in front of him.  
"Open your books and ready your runes! We're going to make us some portals. As you can see, the two major anchor points for our portals are being channeled by mages in Ironforge and right here in Stormwind. A weaker anchor point is in Darnassus, but you will need more skill to use it."  
The word "Darnassus" brought sadness to Varassil's heart, and she wrapped her arms around her body, as if trying to keep warm.

----------------------------

Meren stared at the High Elf, a faint smile on his lips.  
"So she's a High Elf, eh? She's even prettier than the books say."  
Realizing he had spoken aloud, the mage went bright red, while the two mages beside him grinned.  
"Oh, what's this? Young Meren got a crush?"  
"Haha! He's bright red!"  
Meren growled: "Shut up, you two..." 

Returning to their studies, they worked on the portals, but it was obvious that Meren, quite large compared to those around, had his attention fixed on the Elf, and not his studies.

---------------------------- 

Othrallas walked around the classroom while his students were whispering spells and gaining experience. Portals opened and collapsed around him, runestones were split and wands broken. He walked back and forth between the students and his equipment cabinet, supplying them with new reagents every time they turned them into trash.  
Thoughts were running through his head: "So this is the future generation of mages, eh? Darn, I wish Quel'thalas was never destroyed. Look at her, all alone by the door. She's ten times the mage any of them would ever be."

He was about to approach Varassil to hearten her when he was distracted by one of the tenderfoots;  
One of the apprentices in the class asked for his aid, and he plodded towards him reluctantly.

Meren, bent on impressing Varassil, was about to try that which he had been warned about. "A portal to Darnassus shouldn't be much more difficult, and it's bound to impress her!" he thought, and as time passed, the idea sounded even better.  
He waited for Othrallas to be distracted by one of his classmates and when he was finally out of sight, Meren opened his unused copy of "_Advanced Secrets of the Twisting Nether: The expert's guide to the Arcane_".  
The chapter about "_How to spot weak anchor points_" was particularly interesting. He ignored the warning that said  
"_DO NOT ATTEMPT WITHOUT PROPER TRAINING_"  
and went on to open the portal.

He grabbed his runestone with both hands and began channeling a portal. The runestone started glowing red, as if it was burning in his hands. An unstable portal opened before him, twisting and warping, constantly changing it's shape. The swirling gateway was about to collapse, fading in and out. With each fade it released powerful wind into the tower. His hair was violently flung backwards by the force of the wind and his robe fluttered uncontrollably as he stood there trying to sustain the portal. The stone was hurting him, but he refused to quit.

When Varassil first sensed the opening of the portal, she rushed towards him and grabbed his hands to make him drop the stone. She shouted: "What are you doing!" But the wrapping wind did not allow him to hear her voice. He screamed with pain as the portal started throbbing wildly. The runestone exploded and the portal disappeared. Both Meren and Varassil were thrown backwards and passed out on the stone floor.

----------------------------

Varassil found herself back in her old home in the high towers of Silvermoon, watching the sun as it set slowly in the horizon, making room for the moon. The sky was painted with rich shades of orange and purple, and the moon was just becoming visible as her father entered the room. She wasn't a little girl anymore, and she knew what he would ask of her.  
"Father" she said, and he immediately felt the sadness in her voice. "I've never left the city before". She turned around to face him. He kissed her forehead, hugged her and said: "You're grown up, Var, and it's time for you to get involved. Please, this means so much to me". She sighed: "Alright, father. But the Dwarves do not know who I am". "Calm down, my child. They will in due time. Well, have you packed your bags?" he inquired. "Yes, I'm ready" she replied reluctantly. "The carriage is waiting."

Down the spiral tower she went, and entered the carriage. Leaving the sun behind, the carriage started rolling slowly along the stone path until it eventually left the realm of Quel'thalas. It arrived in Aerie Peak the next day. Varassil was now grown up and was assigned the task of handling trade with the Wildhammer Dwarves for her father, who was a seasoned trader. They welcomed her and showed her to her room, where she threw herself on the bed and slept till dawn.

Dawn came inevitably, and with it came shouting. Varassil woke up and walked to the terrace to see what caused so many Dwarves to rise this early and assemble at the center of town. A herald yelled:  
"Hear me! News from the north have arrived! Quel'thalas has fallen, Silvermoon is no more! Laid waste by an army of necromancers and their skeleton servants! Our Elven allies have been slaughtered and obliterated in this sad and dark day! It shall echo through the waves of fate!".  
Varassil's heart skipped as she rushed out of the room, raced down the stairs and sprinted to the Dwarf. "What did you say!" she interrogated him. "Didn't you hear me? Quel'thalas has been destroyed, no survivors! Get your ears cleaned, huma... Oh, you're not a human, you're an Elf. Well, in that case, I guess this is your new home..." he lowered his voice. "I'm sorry, lass".  
She suddenly burst into tears and fell to her knees. She keeled over, leaving it to the Dwarves to drag her back to bed.

----------------------------

By the time Varassil recovered from the explosion, she was all alone. She opened her eyes to find herself lying down on a grassy plain, looking to the sky, which was obstructed by enormous green treetops.  
For the first time in her life, the thirst for magic was quenched and her blood was at rest. "Where am I?" she thought as she regained her consciousness. Suddenly a face appeared above her. It was a dark purple face with glowing eyes and a wide smile. "Are you alright?" the face asked in Darnassian "You appeared out of nowhere!". Varassil's heart began pounding when she heard the hated tongue spoken. "You look a little pale. Here, let me help you up" offered the face. The Night Elf grabbed Varassil's hand and helped her on her feet. Her legs couldn't bare her weight and she collapsed. "Put your arm around my shoulders. Like this".  
She carefully placed Varassil's arm around her small shoulders and helped her into the closest building. So far, Varassil has been surprised that the Night Elf helped her, but when she pointed her eyes to the building, she shut them quickly and covered her face with her remaining hand. The building was a colossal tree, rising higher than anything she has ever seen. The tree was decorated with countless twinkling lights and thousands of terraces sprouted from it like branches. Inside she saw Night Elves of every shape and size. A few came to help bring her inside. They took her to a bed in one of the back rooms, where she rested for a few hours.

The door knob was turned and a blue skinned Elf came in, holding a book and a tray stacked with food while Varassil was sitting on the bed.   
Varassil's heart began pounding again and she pressed against the headboard and wrapped her arms around her body again.  
"Don't be afraid, sister" said the Elf. "Sister?" Varassil asked in wonder. "Oh, you can speak our language! Splendid!" the Elf cried out in excitement. "Yes, sister. You're an Elf, are you not?" she asked.  
Varassil relaxed her arms and let them fall to the bed. She was too confused to be afraid. The Elf presented herself: "I am Isólia, priestess of Elune. Welcome to Darnassus, sister!". She stared at Varassil, waiting for a response. Varassil looked at the bed, motionless. "I will leave you then. Here's some food and a book you should read."   
The priestess put the tray down and walked out of the room. Varassil waited a few seconds and then picked up the book. The book had a hard purple cover and silver letters shined on the front: "The path of the Moon".  
A song was written on the internal side of the front cover:

_Night comes and rises the moon  
A calm whisper gracefully strewn  
Forever playing her soothing tune   
Everwatching is Elune_

"Why do I no longer feel magic burning in my veins?" she contemplated.  
"Why did she call me sister?" she meditated.  
"Why was I given this book?" she pondered.

"_At last you return!_" whispered an invisible voice around her. "_I've been waiting for ages!_" it shouted faintly into her head, as if excited.  
Varassil leaped from the bed and left the room in a terrified hurry. Her blood was rushing and her breath was heavy. She stood with her back to the door, trying to convince herself she didn't hear the voice.  
A crowd of curious Night Elves watched her, amazed by both the presence of a High Elf in Darnassus, and her strange behaviour.  
When she realized how many faces were turned her way, she ran out of the tree, where she discovered green plains of soft, everlasting grass.  
She kept on walking, looking around at the violet twinkles in the treetops, followed by bright azure lights beneath them, and the magical skylight filtering slightly through the branches. There were young trees everywhere, aspiring to reach the height of their giant parents. Wisps were moving around them in an enchanted dance, fascinated by their beauty.  
Varassil tripped over a small stone and fell to her knees on the tender grass. In the distance she beheld a great stone building which presented a great opening. A great lilac rug with a golden lining escorted her eyes as they wandered into the old building.  
"_Go_" whispered the voice. "_Enter_" it cried.

So she began walking towards the building, afraid of the unknown which dwells between it's walls.  
She walked past glittering water and wet leaves reflecting the sunlight into her eyes.  
She passed beneath stone arbors around which plants grew in harmony.  
Then she stood in front of the majestic rug.  
Varassil removed one of her shoes and placed her foot on the rug. It was magically soft and inviting.   
She removed the other shoe and started walking towards the entrance.

In the building stood a huge fountain with bright magical energies swirling around it. It was a statue of a woman holding up a bowl of water, emanating peace and grace which Varassil felt immediately upon entering the temple.

"Elune" said Varassil in awe, marvelling the serenity the place cast upon her.  
"Very good! I take it you know who Elune is?" said a voice coming from somewhere within the temple.   
"Of course I know who she is!" she glared. The priestess moved closer to stand in front of Varassil.  
"May I ask how a High Elf like yourself learns of Elune?"  
"My mother always told me stories about her when I was younger."   
"Of course she did, I knew I could count on her."   
"What does that mean?"  
"Do you still have the book I gave you? Open it and see the name of the owner for yourself."   
Varassil opened the book and looked at the first page. At the bottom it said: "Anquen Moondust".  
"This book belonged to my mother!" she asked in wonder.  
"Yes, she left it here when she followed your father to Quel'thalas. Have you ever seen her cast a fireball, child?"

Then it all made sense. She recalled that black night in Aerie Peak when Othrallas came to bring her to Stormwind. As she sat on her bed and pondered the Dwarf's announcement a few nights back, she overheard Firestaff's conversation with one of them: "Aye, I come here to take the priestess' daughter to Stormwind".  
She recalled her mother arguing with her father about Varassil's training as a mage.

"But what do you have to do with my mother?" Varassil asked curiously.  
"Isólia Moondust, at your service, fair mage" she replied with a long-awaited smile. "If I didn't know An was dead, I would have thought you were her".  
Varassil shut the book and hugged her aunt tightly.  
"I'm glad you're here too, but I could still use some air!"


	2. Chapter Two

_Chapter Two_

"This is very good!" she said, her mouth full and her words barely distinguishable. Varassil had never tasted Kaldorei cooking before, and she was beginning to like it.  
"You should try it when I remember to remove it from the stove in time" said Isólia, sitting in front of Varassil in her small home.  
They were inside the small tree in which Isólia lived. The tree was young, and so not very big, but to Varassil it seemed like a city. She looked around in awe and saw a small bed, much like hers, fire burning in a stove, and a desk on which lay many wands and stones, faintly glowing as if their energies were almost exhausted. Behind her was a doorless doorway which led to another room, decorated with green and purple leaves. A stairway going upwards was to her left, while the desk and stove were to her right. In front of her was the door through which she entered the tree. In the center was a table, with two opposite chairs where she and her aunt sat.  
"I never knew An had any children. She never wrote..." Isólia said and looked down. "Do you have any brothers or sisters, Varassil?" she interrogated.  
"No, just me..." Varassil answered. "I didn't know my mother had a sister, now I wonder what else was hidden from me."  
"All shall be revealed in time, child. Either way, enjoy your pie. I'm going to take a quick shower."  
"Alright, thank you"   
"You're most welcome! Well, how could I not let my last remaining family member have a taste of my world famous pie?"   
Isólia stood up and walked upstairs. Varassil waited a few moments and then went to the desk to examine the glowing stones. There was a book, titleless.  
She picked it up and opened it to the last page. As the page was empty, she turned some pages until she saw a written one.  
The page read, in soft handwriting:

Dear Anquen,  
As I come to realize the horrible fate of Quel'thalas, I also realize that my little sister, which I have not seen for many years, will remain unseen for eternity.  
I shall never forget the moment you passed your first examination and started on your way to priesthood, as I was standing behind you to guide you. Nor will I forget watching you from the bushes as you had your first kiss. There are many moments I cannot forget, for they are burned forever in my mind.  
I ache that in the worst of moments I was not there to guide and save you, little one.  
Now that you have left this world, I must let go of my disappointment and allow your eternal rest be peaceful.  
Despite your betrayal of me and our people and despite the fact that you never wrote even a single letter to let me know how was life in the High Elven kingdom, I bear no grudge against you.  
I forgive you, sister.  
I pray that when it is time for you to become one with the Moon and meet the evergraceful Elune, she will forgive you and embrace your soul.  
Loving, Isólia.

Varassil shut the book slowly as tears began flowing from her eyes. She heard footsteps coming back down, and she returned to the task of eating her pie.

----------------------------

Varassil never expected the book's title to mean anything to her. She never expected her mother's long lost book to set her, even though unknowingly, on the path of the moon.  
At first she carried the book as the last piece of her mother's essence. Then she opened it to see Anquen's familiar handwriting again.  
Little did she know that an old note made by a young priestess at the side of the page would send her on a journey from one cover to the other.  
For two weeks she lived with her aunt in her small tree home, but only now the back of the last page was revealed to her.

Disappointed, she closed the book and put it aside. There was nothing more it could teach her. She looked up at the great statue in the center of the pool and closed her eyes.  
Her thirst for magic was long since gone and now she was standing in the great temple of the moon.  
Varassil lifted her hands up as if she was holding a bowl of water. She stood there like the statue of Elune. The statue had little waterfalls surrounded by tiny streams of tranquil blue energy. She felt the water pouring out of her non-existent bowl and the energy surrounding her body, spreading purple mist around her.  
Footsteps disturbed her concentration. Many footsteps.  
A group of sentinels entered the building, wearing their usual armor and weapons. In the middle walked a fair Night Elven woman, wearing a glittering white dress and a weapon much like the sentinels had.  
She stopped walking when she saw Varassil standing in the temple. The sentinels stopped as well and moved to allow the woman some space.   
They began whispering among themselves and the woman eventually said: "Silence! Let us ask the woman."  
Then she turned to Varassil and asked: "Greetings, I am High Priestess Tyrande Whisperwind. Do my eyes fool me, or are you one of the Quel'dorei?".   
Varassil stood in front of the majestic priestess speechless. She became nervous and began breathing heavily, nearly fainting. Unable to move even a single muscle, she remained standing, looking down, afraid to look at Tyrande's face.

"How dare you come to this sacred place, traitor?" said Tyrande with visible contempt, reaching for her blade.

"Well? Answer!"

The sentinels all drew their weapons as if they were commanded to, looking at Varassil like she was a hated enemy. "Shall we deal with her, mistress?" one of them asked.

"Wait a minute" she replied. "What is this?"

She circled Varassil and picked up the book. She looked at it and said: "Does this belong to you?"

Varassil barely managed to move her head far enough to nod.

A shout came from outside: "Var, where are you? By Elune, you better be in one piece when I find you!"

Isólia entered the building. She gasped when she saw an army of sentinels gathered in one spot. Something was clearly wrong and much to her misfortune, she knew what it was.

She made her way through the crowd of sentinels, pushing them. "Excuse me, this is urgent!" she cried.

When she was finally beyond the barrier of elven protectors and standing in the circle they formed, she darted to stand between Tyrande and Varassil.

"Please, noble priestess, do not harm this girl."

"Quel'dorei are to be killed on sight, you know that!"

"She is kin. Please, I have lost too many members of my family to this stupid war."

Tyrande felt her sorrow. She showed her the book and asked: "How did she get this, and why is she here?"

"I gave it to her. It belonged to Anquen, my sister." Isólia replied, hoping that the priestess would leave them be.

"And what is she doing with it?" asked Tyrande.

"She was a mage until two weeks ago."

"What is she now, a priest?"

"Yes. And quite a good one."

"Oh, I remember Anquen... But what does she have to do with the poor priestess?" she said, pointing at Varassil.

"Varassil is Anquen's daughter... The only one we know of, anyway..." said Isólia.

Tyrande paused for a few seconds in amazement, then sheathed her weapon. The sentinels noticed her blade being removed, and removed theirs as well. Isólia sighed with relief and stepped aside.

Tyrande reached to shake Varassil's hand, but by the time she came closer and said: "I apologize for judging so quickly. You are most welcome to stay in the Temple.", Varassil had already fainted.

----------------------------

In her fear-induced slumber she saw her home. Silvermoon was in spring and the sun was high above the grassy field in which she played. A young girl at the time, she was surrounded by her fellow Elves. They tossed balls around and chased each other about. Trees were casting their shades and the nearby forest was full of wildlife sounds.

There, beyond the mighty Elfgate of Quel'thalas, the Elves could play in the blissful ignorance of the events yet to follow.

Her mother, Anquen, was there as well. She stood in the distance, spreading a great white sheet over the grass. Out of a big woven basket she took plates stacked with food for the children, along with four glass jugs, reflecting the bright sunlight in a dance of twinkles.

She placed the food and drinks over the sheet and called for young Varassil.

When she came near, her mother told her: "Var, sweetheart, call the other children please. Lunch is served."

She smiled, and a smile on Varassil's faced followed. "Yes, mother" she said, and immediately ran off to deliver her message.

The children consumed their meal rather quickly, and promptly returned to their games.

Varassil, however, preferred to stay with her mother. She didn't know that her beautiful childhood would last not but a few decades.

She was sitting on the white sheet when her mother came closer and sat behind her. Anquen had a brush in her hand, and she started brushing Varassil's hair. She hugged her daughter and pulled her to sit on her lap. Varassil leaned her head back and placed it on her mother's shoulder.

She noticed her mother was wearing an earring. The earring was made of a purple gem with a golden lining around it. In the center a piece of gold was embedded, displaying a strange symbol.

"What is that earring, mother? I've never seen it before" asked Varassil.

"That was given to me a long time ago by a very loving person. It is very dear to me" her mother answered.

"Did father give it to you?" Varassil explored further.

"No, not your father."

"Who, then?"

"Some things in the past are better forgotten, Varassil. Leave it be."

Disappointed by her mother's reluctance to answer, Varassil fell silent. She stared at the earring, trying to decipher the meaning of the strange symbol. Unsuccessful, she eventually fell asleep in her mother's arms.

----------------------------

She regained consciousness in her aunt's home in Darnassus. She lay on her bed, her book resting on her nightstand.

She opened it to look at the comments made by her mother about Elune and the path of worshipping her. The content was not important, she merely wanted to examine the last memory she had left of her mother.

The door slid open and Isólia entered the room carrying a tray loaded with homemade food and drinks.

"Don't worry, you won't be harmed here" she soothed Varassil, who seemed about to burst in tears.

"I should go back to Stormwind" she cried, clearly unhappy with her decision.

"Why would you want to do that? Please don't leave" Isólia tried to persuade her. She continued: "I spoke to priestess Whisperwind. You are most welcome to stay and she will personally see that you receive proper training."

"Really? That is... I would love that." said Varassil, a smile spreading slowly across her face.

Isólia smiled too, and hugged Varassil with love.

"Your official training only begins next week." she informed Varassil. "And don't you dare run off once it is complete!"

"I won't" Varassil reassured Isólia.

Three days later, in the beginning of the following week, Varassil entered the Temple again.

Isólia sat there, waiting. When she entered, Isólia stood up and greeted her: "Priestess Whisperwind is not here, unfortunately."

Smiling, she said: "This does not delay your training though. Follow me."

Varassil followed, knowing what was about to happen. She has read about it in her book. She was scared and nervous of what was about to happen, but prepared. Thousands of priestesses have done it before her, and so she can too.

The walk seemed to last an eternity, going up the spiral stairway inside the Temple. They walked more until they reached a large opening on the other side. The opening lead to a long path hanging over the temple gardens, leading to a building on the other side of the garden. Many plants grew in that garden, but she was not yet skilled enough to tell which were for healing and which for beauty.

In the center of the garden rested a moonwell, a magical pool of sacred energy stored in glowing blue water. Here her thirst for magic was non-existant and she clearly felt the effect of the moonwell on her. It inspired hope and replenished her energies. Energies she could use for either healing or killing. The same energy that inspired wounds to close and portals to open. The same energy that brought doom upon her people, and peace upon the Children of the Stars.

Finally reaching the other side, they entered the building. Eager to begin her training, but at the same time terrified of what she is about to see, Varassil shook in both excitement and fear.


End file.
